


No Way to Make a Living

by freckleon



Category: Knight & Rogue - Hilari Bell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, The Office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleon/pseuds/freckleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This job is the abandoned bus stop in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, you've probably got plans to get out of there, but you can't be sure when the bus will arrive. And the longer you wait, the less likely it seems your ticket out is ever going to show.</p><p>The Office AU that everyone (read: me) was clamoring for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Way to Make a Living

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a couple seasons of The Office and then became obsessed with the idea of Michael and Fisk stuck in a small workplace day in and day out, pining like a couple of Jim and Pam's. I've written a lot of notes about Jack the warehouse worker and Rose the flighty fiance (with the never ending engagement to Michael). Of course, I haven't actually written much actual story, so have this instead.

_Working here is like… trying to explain how a cell phone works to your 90-year old grandma. For eight hours. Five days a week. Every week—I can keep going if you like?_

_…_

_It's not a_ bad _job, really. It's just pointless. My existence will always and forever be pointless as long as I work here._

_…_

_Sorry, what?_

_…_

_Something that makes it worthwhile? No, have you been listening? This job is the abandoned bus stop in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, you've probably got plans to get out of there, but you can't be sure when the bus will arrive. And the longer you wait, the less likely it seems your ticket out is ever going to show._

 

There’s a rapping on his desk and Fisk finishes the paragraph quickly, looking up to scowl at whomever dare disturb him. He’s met with the sight of two solid red food containers perched at eye level and, behind them, a very determined looking Michael.

“Food, Fisk.”

“I’m busy.”

“Food will help you concentrate. An empty stomach equals at least a dozen missed commas.”

“How dare you slander my editing ability.”

He hears a scoff and turns to find Sam leaning on the printer nearby, watching them.

“You’ve made him take his eyes off the monitor, I’m impressed,” she tells Michael.

Fisk immediately returns to his default state of ignoring her existence, only to remember that Michael is a comma-threatening devil who hides his identity under unassuming sweater vests, so there’s really no one safe to concentrate on.

“It’s all part of my six step plan to make sure this banana doesn’t starve,” Michael tells her gravely, pointing at Fisk.

Sam looks confused and Fisk sighs. “Please stop calling me fruit names. Also, is step two jinxing all my work so that I spend the next six hours recording missed punctuation?”

“No, step two is watching YouTube tutorials on how to make a voodoo doll.”

“And I suppose I’m expected to ask about the other five?” Fisk tries for a bored tone, but it’s a challenge. God help him, he’s intrigued.

Michael shrugs and nudges the red dishes closer. “Or we could skip all that and you could just come eat with me.”

“What is it today?”

“Cordon Bleu.”

“You cooked him Cordon Bleu?” exclaims Sam, sounding snappish. “Seriously?”

Michael eyes her awkwardly before adding, “I’ve got your vegetable today.”

Fisk brightens. “Broccoli?”

“And parmesan.”

“Ugh, you're both disgusting,” grouses Sam and stomps off.

Fisk capitulates at the sight of those happy little green trees, but he really does have a lot to get done, so they compromise. Fisk drags another chair behind the reception area (the comfy one that Makejoy usually claims, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him) while Michael microwaves the meals, and then they cozy up around his monitor.

The Cordon Bleu is a weird combination of flavors, but it grows on him the more he eats it. Maybe he doesn’t get nearly as much done as he would have alone, but it’s refreshing to have a little human interaction, and Michael is unbearably appealing when he’s trying not to snort broccoli out of his nose while he laughs.

 

_Okay, maybe there's one thing that makes it worth it._

_…I really like broccoli, okay?_


End file.
